


i'll be your sinner, in secret

by thefudge



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 3x01, F/M, Guilt, Kissing in the Rain, Uniform Kink, Veronica's uniform specifically, Voyeurism, Wet Dream, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: 3x01 compliant & AU. Jughead watches Veronica waitressing all summer. And then he watches her some more.





	i'll be your sinner, in secret

**Author's Note:**

> SO. i was only planning to write a 500-word drabble about Jughead having a thing for Veronica's uniform. Of fucking course it became an angsty oneshot about yearning and forbidden love. #whyamilikethis  
> (no really, whyyyy)  
> (title is taken from the Carly Rae Jepsen song, the meme one)

It’s Betty who tells him to look out for her. She’s busy helping Archie’s mom and Mayor McCoy build up their case. She can’t be there for her friend.

Everyone is watching the golden-boy-turned-criminal, but is anyone watching V?

“Just…make sure she’s okay,” Betty tells him. “She puts on a brave face, but you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

So Jughead watches her.

 

 

It's not like he _could_ have avoided watching her. He happens to stop at _Pop's_ every day and she works there. But Betty gives the whole thing an aura of voluntary work. Like he's making a real effort to look after Veronica. When really, it becomes almost like second nature. 

 

 

 

He has always liked watching the people he has least in common with. It’s kind of a litmus test – _will I find a commonality if I watch them long enough_?

 

 

He has seen her in Vera Wang and Prada, but it’s the greasy, mustard-colored, slightly frumpy Pop’s uniform that highlights something ageless about Veronica, a personal, indefatigable style. The way her ponytail swishes as she shakes her head makes him half-smile, despite the current state of affairs. She is going to survive this, somehow. Veronica is talking a mile a minute. She drops the burger in front of him while she tells him about her ingenious plan to infiltrate the jury and compromise it.

“You know that’s very much illegal, right? Tampering with the jury?”

“If Daddy can play his games, so can I,” she says, the same unbeatable glint in her eye. “Besides, it’s all in the name of justice. I believe in the ends excusing the means.” She grins like she’s excited at the prospect of finally _doing_ something, but Jughead can see the cracks underneath, the despair, the _what if this won’t work_.

“You should take a break, Ms. Machiavelli. Have a burger with me. Tell me more about the plan. Maybe…I can help?”

Veronica shrugs. “I guess I can spare five minutes.”

Three minutes in, they’re talking about the moms on the jury.

“I thought they’d eat Archie up. I was counting on a little ‘mom crush’. I even told him to wear the bowtie to impress them. But…I guess…I don’t know, he’s not everyone’s taste.”

“Better luck with the dads?”

Veronica laughs, wipes a smudge under her eye. “Yeah, maybe.”

“How – how are you? How do you feel about all of this?” Jughead asks inelegantly.

Veronica cocks her head to the side, ponytail swishing. “How do you think I feel? My boyfriend is on trial for manslaughter. My father orchestrated the whole thing as a way to punish me for _betraying_ him. He told me to my _face_. ”

“That’s…that’s pretty fucked up. Although if he admitted to the whole thing, that would definitely incriminate him. Maybe wear a wire next time and get him to confess?”

Veronica scoffs. “That’s your brilliant idea?”

“Worked for Kiefer Sutherland.”

Veronica smiles, shakes her head. “I don't watch old man shows. Did Betty put you up to this?”

“What do you mean?”

“This whole “how are you” ruse?”

“Can’t I genuinely wonder how you’re doing?” he asks, leaning forward self-consciously.

“You can, but…I like that we are the kind of distant friends who do not have to keep tabs on each other.”

Jughead pops a fry into his mouth. “So what, I should just trust you’re doing okay?”

Veronica beams. “That’s right. Never doubt me.”

 

 

He watches her lean over the tables as she mops up the spilled milkshake. He wants to get up and offer to help her, but he chickens out. She already sussed him out about Betty and she resents pity most of all. He knows that about her, at least. So he sits in his booth and watches her wipe the milk with the kind of aggressive energy reserved for cleaning blood.   

(Yes, okay, her ass sticks out of her uniform, but he doesn’t focus on her appurtenances, he is a gentleman. And he has a girlfriend who is far too good for him.)

 

 

He catches her doing a little dance when she gets a call from mayor McCoy saying there is a chance that Archie's trial will be thrown. They'll have more time to prove his innocence. 

She does a kind of salsa step and twirls on the spot and the ribbon at the back of her skirt comes undone. 

He smiles at her.  "Good news?" 

 "You bet!"

 And she can't keep still, she pulls him into a brief hug. "Next burger's on the house!"

 

 

There are bad days too, more frequent than the good ones. 

Beads of sweat nestle in the 'V' of her cleavage. Her skin turns sticky amber in the August dusk. She is fiddling with the lock of her heart necklace. He is sitting at the counter, trying to type up the new developments in Archie’s trial, but he has no stomach for it.

“God damn it. Could you help me with this?” Veronica asks, turning her back to him, pointing at a damp spot on her nape. She holds up her hair.

Jughead is startled by her proximity, the strange, volcanic warmth of her body, the smell of fermented black grapes. He always imagined her colder. He gets up from the stool, tries not to touch her too much as he operates the lock.

His knuckles still brush against her skin and it’s unpleasant because it feels like a part of her comes off his fingers.  

“I – uh – I think it’s stuck. It won’t open. Unless you break it.”

“Oh. I guess I’ll never take it off,” Veronica says with a soft sigh. She doesn’t immediately turn around. Jughead’s breath falls in her hair.

 “Archie gave it to me,” she adds.

Jughead pats her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s pretty.”

Her face crumbles a little. She has to breathe in once or twice to regain her composure.

She turns to him. “He’s going to be okay,” she tells Jughead, as if he was the one wondering.

“Of course he is.”

He returns to his writing feeling like an asshole, but he doesn’t know why.

 

 

When he watches her, he feels compelled to turn his whole body. As if giving her less would be insulting and she'd be able to tell. 

 

 

The four of them go to the Water Hole for a final outing before the verdict.

Jughead holds Betty against him, the cold water making their skins rough like sandpaper. Veronica has her arms around Archie’s head, cradling him to her, feeding herself one last time.

She locks eyes with Jughead across the water expanse. And maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he swears in that moment Veronica looks jealous – jealous of him and Betty because they still have a future. Because they’ll have more days like this.

Afterwards, Veronica stays in the water longer than everyone else.

Jughead watches her from the rocks.  

 

 

He makes love to Betty next to the camp fire. Betty thinks it’s endearing he’s still self-conscious about his body, his technique, his pace…his everything, really. She kisses him on the forehead, tells him he can come, but he keeps going, like he has a point to prove. In the distance, he thinks he hears Veronica and Archie fighting.

After a few moments, Betty can hear them too.

“You will not take that deal, do you _hear_ me?” Veronica is screaming. “Yes! It is up to _me_. I am the one whose heart you’re breaking.”

That night he will write in the word document that he dropped beside Betty, unable to finish, unable to do anything.

But the ugly truth is he finished. He came inside Betty while Veronica was crying her heart out.

 

 

Archie takes the deal.

Jughead has to put an arm around Veronica's chest to physically keep her from following Archie as they cuff him and lead him past the gallery.   

She struggles against him and he holds her tighter. 

Veronica is screaming that Archie is innocent, but Jughead can also hear the anger in her voice, anger directed at her boyfriend who is too naive, too uncorrupted and corruptable, at the same time.

Veronica falls against him, sobbing like a little girl. Betty has to extricate her from Jughead’s hold.

His shirt is damp with her tears. He lets them dry.

 

 

Emotional hurts manifest into physical wounds. Veronica cuts the whole length of her palm trying to operate the bread-cutter. It’s a deep cut.

It’s a good thing Jughead happened to be there.

He makes her hold a towel to her hand and apply pressure.  Veronica has small tears at the corner of her eyes.

“I was just trying to help out Pop with the sandwiches…”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m so useless. No wonder Archie left me.”

“Jesus, don’t say _that_.”

“I know, I know. It’s not about me. I am making it about _me_."

"That's not -"

"Because it feels like he chose prison over me. And I know that’s not it. I know Archie just wants to get this over with. He is being selfless. He doesn’t want to make us go through another trial. And I hate that about him. I hate his weird _noblesse oblige_ , I hate his need to protect everyone and everything. I hate how he reminds me of the boys in New York who told me they’d die for me. I hate that kind of heroic, self-destructive impulse, even when it’s genuine,” she rants, as she keeps bleeding. “I really hate it.”

Jughead presses the towel to her hand and stares at her broken face, her smeared makeup.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?” she asks petulantly.

“I’ve known Archie my whole life, ever since we were kids. But I don’t think I ever looked at him that way.”

Veronica cracks a sad smile. “I’m a fountain of insight. Give me five bucks and I will spout more illuminating truths about human nature.”

“I wouldn’t call them _illuminating_.”

“I am bleeding over here, let me have my moment.”

“Yeah…we should probably get you to a hospital,” he says, rubbing her wrist.

 

 

He calls Betty, of course. She arrives out of breath, eyes wide with alarm. “What _happened_?”

Jughead tries to assure her it was just an accident. Veronica is getting stitches. Everything is under control.

“That wasn’t an accident, Jug. You were supposed to _watch_ her,” Betty points out.

 

 

She shuffles between the tables dutifully, taking orders, picking up tall glasses, but she doesn’t have the same pep in her step. Jughead watches her from his booth. He is dealing with his own problems. Penny is hell-bent on infiltrating the Northside and littering the streets with corpses. He doesn’t have time to ask Veronica how she’s holding up, he doesn’t have the courage.

He just watches her.

When they do talk later that night as she’s about to finish her shift, Veronica tells him she heard Hiram met with the Ghoulies again. Jughead sighs. “Yeah, Penny’s on my back.”

Veronica chews on her lip. “You know, you should find out if she has any children.”

“What?”

“Penny. She must have a family. These people still care about one thing; their legacy. Find out if she has kids.”

What she is suggesting is rather ruthless, not to mention tasteless. But he nods, because he understands. Hiram probably still thinks he loves his daughter and this whole charade is for her own good.

 

 

She’s dancing on the tables at one of Cheryl’s endless parties, trying to reach a point of total oblivion, when Reggie swoops in with a husky laugh and grabs her. He pulls her over his shoulder, hand cupping her ass. Veronica laughs, but tells him to put her down. Reggie swings her around the room a few times. She forgets where she is. She kisses him sloppily on the corner of his mouth. He tastes like baby vodka. 

Next thing she knows, Jughead is pulling her away, setting her down on her feet while Sweet Pea sizes up Reggie with a flicker of menace in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Veronica slurs into Jughead’s shoulders. “For defending my honor.”

Jughead turns her around and stares at her hard. “Look, Archie did a pretty dumb, destructive thing. Don’t follow in his footsteps. You’re better than this.”

Veronica recoils. Her eyes flash. “Are you slut-shaming me?”

“Jesus, _no_.”

“Did Betty send you to rescue me again?”

“She didn’t –”

“Newsflash, I’m not the one who is _Girl, Interrupted_ , Jughead. It’s your girlfriend who doesn’t know how to cope with reality.”

This is the alcohol talking, the Manhattan inside her talking, but she can’t stop.

“Why do you think she keeps taking the pills?” She stabs his chest with her forefinger. “You think she’s well-adjusted? Hah, look at us. Archie is in prison, I’m a time bomb, Betty is an addict. You might be the most normal of the bunch. I bet that ruins your street cred.”

She keeps prodding his chest, keeps goading him.

Jughead grabs her fingers, crushes them in his hand. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t know why he’s still looking at her, why he’s still here.

She yanks her hand away and leaves him standing there.

 

 

Penny does have children. Twins, actually. They live with their grandmother in Quebec. 

There are Serpents in Quebec who could pay Grandma a visit, but Jughead is going to save this card for when shit really hits the fan. 

He kind of hates Veronica for leading him here, to the point where he's considering this. 

 

 

In his darker moments, Jughead thinks that everything would have been fine if she had never come into town. Archie would not be in prison, Betty would not be having such a hard time with her family, he would – he wouldn’t have to think about Veronica’s stupid fucking uniform.

 

 

Veronica drops the DVD on his table, along with the burger.

“What’s this?”

“This is a ‘I was a major bitch and must say five Hail Mary’s to atone’ gift. I was a major bitch, I’m sorry.”

He turns the DVD over. It’s a copy of _Last Year at Marienbad._

“Oh wow, Alain Robbe-Grillet, I feel special.”

“This is my personal, treasured copy. Just to show how sorry I am.”

Jughead tries not to smile. “You’re basically telling me you spent no money on this.”

“In so many words. Am I forgiven?”

Jughead looks up at her. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you after I watch the movie.”

Veronica’s jaw drops. “You’ve never seen it? Oh, _oh_ you are watching it right _now_.”

She takes a short break and they watch ten minutes of the film on his laptop, sitting side by side in the same booth. She has her elbows on the table, chin cradled between her palms. Jughead watches the movie reflected in her eyes. That is to say, he watches her more than he watches _Last Year at Marienbad._ He can't help it. It's become a habit. 

“Okay, you watch the rest. And take notes,” she instructs, taking out her own pen and pad.

He doesn't know what notes to take, except that this movie is fucking confusing and brilliant, just like her, maybe. 

 

 

Veronica mops the floors. _Jolene_ is playing on the jukebox and it doesn’t fit, as soundtracks go.

Jughead walks into the diner, brushing off the rain from his shoulders. He takes off his beanie which now rather smells like wet dog. He shakes the water out of his hair. Early September weather is tempestuous.

Veronica pauses, mop resting against her hip. “Is that you, Clark Kent? I didn’t recognize you without the hat.”

“Haha. You got me.”

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I, uh…” His smile falls flat. “I got something for you actually. From Archie.”

His movements are strained. He takes out a letter from his backpack, turns it in his hands. “He asked me to give it to you.”

Veronica’s face becomes a porcelain mask. “Why - you know I don't want it. Get it away from me.”

“Hey, it’s only a letter. He said he really misses you, and I know you miss him, you don't have to see him – ”

“Stop talking. I said _no_.”

“Veronica –”

“If you give it to me, I’ll just throw it away. Keep it, read it, include it in your novel, I don’t care.”

“Of course you care.” And he says it like an insult, like this is her weakness, after all. “You’re still wearing the necklace.”

It's true. The heart necklace still dangles against her uniform. 

Veronica looks like she’s been hit. Her whole body undergoes a static shock.

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, that was really dumb –”

“Fine. If you won’t leave, I will.”

 She doesn’t bother picking up the mop and bucket. She rushes out of the diner into the full blast of rain.

She expects him to follow because he’s a stubborn mule, and she expects to yell at him, to tell him that this is none of his business.

He does follow her into the parking lot.

What she doesn’t expect is her reaction when he pulls her towards him, when he opens his jacket, when he tells her she’ll catch a cold. She supposes this is what friends – distant friends – do for each other.

And it doesn’t matter if he cranes his head towards her or if she rises on her toes. Their faces are too close, the moment too steep, and his lips have no taste. Everything is numb. They are two clocks who have stopped running. The kiss is chaste but illicit, a kind of crime. Just to touch each other like that, his thumb brushing against her jaw, her mouth cresting over his, it’s like taking a knife to an animal.

They break away quickly. Jughead looks down.

She slips out of his jacket and runs back into the diner. _Jolene_ is still playing on the jukebox.  It all happened so fast, like it didn’t happen at all.

 

 

There was this one dream a few weeks ago. She was bent over one of the tables, cleaning up the milkshake, and he just came up to her like he was someone else, like he was in someone else’s skin. His boots collided with her loafers and he put his hand on the small of her back and another under her skirt. His thumb brushed over the lining of her panties. Veronica shuddered. She leaned back, parting her legs.  She looked at him over her shoulder.

“Your best friend's in jail,” she said, with a soft, kind smile.

He woke up in a pool of sweat and his dick twitching against his leg. He relieved himself in the privacy of the shower, replaying the moment over and over again.

 

 

He avoids _Pop’s_ for a solid week, but he can’t avoid going to school.

Veronica is talking to Reggie next to her locker when he passes her by in the hallway.  Their eyes don’t meet. He feels shame. He feels self-loathing. And he wishes Reggie would walk the fuck away.

 

 

Sometimes, when she replays the moment in the parking lot in her head, he kisses her harder.

 

 

It’s the damn uniform really – the ketchup stains, the milkmaid’s white lapels, the constellation of tight buttons on the side, the practical skirt. The Veronica inside it.

They can never talk about the kiss or ever acknowledge it. They can never even dredge up the remains of their friendship, although they will have to. They will have to reckon with all of this in some distant future.

He sits in his booth at _Pop’s_.

“Welcome back,” she tells him with a crisp, guarded smile, sliding the plate before him. Her face begs him not to say anything.

He doesn’t. He nods.

He watches her as she walks away. He watches her.


End file.
